


A Whisper in the Silence

by laughter_now



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughter_now/pseuds/laughter_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything aboard seems muted somehow, as if the ship itself knows that something crucial is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Whisper in the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything associated with the Star Trek franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> This was written for a prompt back in the Ship Wars days.  
> First posted to my lj-journal on January 28th, 2010

**A Whisper In The Silence**  
  
  
It's never been like this before, and Jim doesn't understand it.  
  
"I keep telling you that you need to take care of yourself."  
  
Bones' voice is gravelly and flat, without any real emotion behind it. It scares Jim more than anything else.  
  
"Right back at you, Bones."  
  
It is as if the other man hasn't even heard him.  
  
It's never been like this. Jim has never been around during the fallout.  
  
"Go get some sleep, Bones. Eat something. It's been two days; you can't keep doing this to yourself."  
  
Bones sighs and all the answer Jim gets is the oppressing silence of the room around them. It's all the answer he has ever gotten over the past two days.  
  
At first it scared him. This wasn't supposed to happen. Whenever Jim gets hurt, he holds on for as long as he can, and then he wakes up to the sight of Bones' frowning face, to his grumbling and lectures about recklessness and idiot Captains. It's always like this, no matter how bad Jim's injuries are.  
  
He isn't supposed to be aware of what happens in between. He's not supposed to see Bones fall apart like this.  
  
Jim walks over to Bones' chair, standing so close that he should feel the other man's body heat if only he could feel anything at all right now.  
  
"Bones."  
  
It comes out sad and broken, but Bones doesn't as much as move a muscle in response. He keeps sitting like he's done for too many hours already, staring at the biobed in front of him from red-rimmed eyes. Jim feels his heart break each time he looks at Bones and sees the pain on his face, the emptiness in his eyes.  
  
He doesn't look at his own face, pale and unmoving, on the biobed in front of Bones. He can't look because the sight of his own lifeless body still scares him just as much as it did the first time he saw it and realized that this time, everything was wrong.  
  
It doesn't make sense, and Jim is scared to think about what it could mean. In the face of Bones' anguish however, it doesn't matter. Not when he has to stand by and watch how he's closer to death than life, and how that's breaking the heart of the man he loves.  
  
When Bones is forced to leave Medical to get some rest, Jim follows him because he's scared to be left alone with his own lifeless body, and even more scared to leave Bones out of his sight right now.  
  
He knows just how bad things are when the first thing Bones does upon entering their quarters is to curl up on their bed, his face pressed into Jim's pillow as if trying to suffocate himself with his scent. There aren't any tears or any other displays of suffering. While Bones always complains and grumbles out loud for the world to hear, he suffers in silence, behind the walls he has built around himself a long time ago. It's these walls he's hiding his anguish behind right now, too, and Jim hates that he can only stand by and watch when he longs to touch and soothe.  
  
If this is the universe trying to teach Jim a lesson, it chose a cruel way to get the message across.  
  
Jim wanders aimlessly through the ship whenever it gets too hard to watch Bones fall apart. Everything aboard seems muted somehow, as if the ship itself knows that something crucial is wrong. The lights seem dimmer than they usually are, and the crew is subdued, working silently as if laughter or loudly spoken words might unravel whatever shaky thread is still holding life aboard together.  
  
It's the Bridge that's worst. The tension is so thick it's nearly tangible, and it's far too silent. Spock is in command, and he stands beside the chair – Jim's chair – without ever once sitting down. It's a silent message to the crew which the Vulcan could never put into words: he's not taking over, he's only stepping in until Jim comes back. And because Jim knows that normally Spock shows no hesitation to sit down in the chair when he has the conn, Jim knows that this time, it's bad. So bad that he's watching his crew get used to the feeling of mourning their Captain.  
  
But it's Bones whose suffering hurts Jim the most, because Bones doesn't even try to carry on. Bones is running on empty. He sits beside Jim's bed for as long as they let him, and lies in their bed whenever he's ordered to get rest, clutching Jim's pillow like a lifeline. He doesn't talk, or complain. He doesn't try to force a medical miracle that would save Jim's life. He simply sits there as everything else passes by, and that scares Jim.  
  
He understands.  
  
He understands that the numbness spreading through the ship and affecting the crew means that they need their Captain. They need him back. But Bones needs him far more than that.  
  
His crew would grieve for him. But given time, life aboard would go on, and soon it wouldn't feel wrong if someone else sits in that chair.  
  
But Jim understands with sudden clarity that Bones won't be all right. Not the way Jim knows and loves him. It's humbling, to mean so much to someone else, to be so directly responsible for whether the person you love still has a reason to get out of bed in the morning. It's a crushing responsibility, too, to know that one misstep might take away someone else's will to live.  
  
And as the world around Jim starts to fade he takes one last longing look at Bones' tired and sorrowful face, and hopes that he'll soon wake up to see Bones' face, to hear him grumble about what a reckless idiot he is.  
  
In the end, it's easy. The crew needs their Captain, but Bones needs _him_. So Jim will fight. It's all he can do.  
  
 ** _The End_**


End file.
